An Appalachian Tsunami
Green peaks under gold lit skies
fade into a misting white
through shifting ocean hues—
an Appalachian tsunami
resting for man’s short view
whom knowing greater beauties
must grant the heavens their glories due
but do these green peaks rest?
Do they sit in eternity, unmoved?
Vanity, this Middle-Earth we tend to;
nothing stays so long,
nor I to hold its view.
All but You.
A Note on Circumstance
These are a number of images written during a family trip to a cabin on a peak somewhere in Tennessee. I looked out on the enourmous rolling smoky mountains and found peace through despair. I saw the climbing forests as a blanket laid over giant’s bones. I saw time moving forward wearing them down to dust. I saw vanity in the rock, that great immovable rock. And so I knew all else too would fail; if not it then me. So a comforter found me in poverty and brought my eyes upward.1Ecclesiastes 1:2
And on Poetry
I am a man who enjoys simplicity and rawness. I usually find refined experiences to be too sterile, too targeted, and grow suspicious. I much prefer the woods to a concert. I find it odd then that I so enjoy poetry. What I thought I would find a posh well adjusted attitude in (which seemingly denies my experience of reality) I instead found vulnerability and an embrace of the reality of suffering; yes, but beauty as well. It seems good for man to practice this vulnerability for the sake of communion with others; yes, but with God as well.
A tune behind time’s touch
singing songs through each age
gifting mankind privilege to engage
with Love beyond the temporal haze—
reaches to our mortal maze;
in turn, our hearts moved— lurch.
A life poured out is due for such
given to a fallen failing pursuit.
Renews every action into one that suits
those perfect person’s unfailing gaze
unveiling stolen knowledge— our craze:
like a string off-tune yearning for its maker’s touch
Seeds gather matter
like gravity wells rocks:
invisible unions forming flocks
from the universal waters.
A perfect rose enlivens my soul
& loosens this heart of stone
to the thunderous river’s water fall
who’s cause I resist
to empty myself for all
Yet that rose, O that rose,
brings my being to weep
so that child of hers,
the wonderful scent,
might grow beside the waters
whom guide my decrease.
Footnotes
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“Vanity of vanities,” says the Preacher; “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” - Ecclesiastes 1:2
David, who had experienced those very glances which are dangerous for a man, aptly says that the person is blessed whose every hope is in the name of God. For such a one does not have regard to vanities and follies who always strives toward Christ and always looks upon Christ with his inner eyes. For this reason David turned to God again and said, “Turn away my eyes, that they may not see vanity.”2 The circus is vanity, because it is totally without profit; horse racing is vanity, because it is counterfeit as regards salvation; the theater is vanity, every game is vanity. “All things are vanity!” as Ecclesiastes said, all things that are in this world. Accordingly, let the person who wishes to be saved ascend above the world, let him seek the Word who is with God, let him flee from this world and depart from the earth. For a man cannot comprehend that which exists and exists always, unless he has first fled from here.
— Ambrose of Milan ↩
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Psalm 119:37 ↩